


to study your body if your heart's not ready

by LilMysterios



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sheriff Stilinski, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Begging, Blushing, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski - Freeform, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Embarrassment, Extremely Underage, Father/Son Incest, Feminization, First Orgasm, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Incest, Jealousy, John is confused, John is not a typical alpha, John is possessive, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Examination, Nipple Play, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Prostate Massage, Self-Lubrication, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Shota Stiles Stilinski, Size Difference, Society Expectations, Stiles is insecure, Stiles is really responsive, Undressing in front of others, Unsafe Sex, mentioned Teacher-Student Relationship, mentioned knotting, mentioned male lactation, mentioned milking, mentioned public sex, possessive thoughts, sort of aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4123404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMysterios/pseuds/LilMysterios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles just presented as an omega, even though he's incredibly young. </p>
<p>Cue a medical exam with a doc that's more than happy to have little Stiles come on his fingers... and cue John trying to deal with the fact that he's supposed to take care of his underage omega son.</p>
<p>(It doesn't help that Stiles is quite invested in his quest to get his dad to fuck him.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, everything is in the tags and warnings, so if you're not one to read a/b/o underage incesty smut, please refrain from reading any further?
> 
> Also, there is a medical professional who is probably a little too enthusiastic in this chapter. Although his actions ARE perfectly normal in the a/b/o context, please remember that this is fantasy, and that I DO NOT condone this kind of behavior in real life.
> 
> For the others, enjoy.

"Take your clothes off, Stiles, and go sit on the table."

Stiles casts an uncertain look to his father, a bit embarrassed at having to undress in front of him, but the Sheriff gives him a calm nod, and the doctor smiles kindly at him from the other side of his massive desk.

"You don't have to be ashamed to be naked in front of your father, Stiles," he says reassuringly. "After all, he's the one who gave you life."

Stiles' cheeks are flaming hot but he obeys all the same, carefully standing up to start removing his clothes, back turned to his dad to avoid meeting his eyes.

"So you say he already had his preheat?" he hears the doctor ask.

It only serves to remind Stiles of the horribly embarrassing reason they're in this room, and he can feel a scarlet, burning flush climb up his face, but his dad doesn't seem too put out when he answers.

"Yeah, he had it last week," he says gruffly. "At first I thought it was just a really bad flu, since he was all hot and sweaty but then he, umm, he--"

"Was showing the typical signs of an omega in heat?" the doctor finishes with tact.

"Yes," the Sheriff sighs, and Stiles can hear he’s a little uncomfortable with the topic.

"Well, of course preheats don't commonly happen before the age of fifteen,” the doctor says thoughtfully, “lest of all before puberty, so Stiles here is definitely precocious… but it doesn't have to mean anything bad."

They both turn to Stiles, now as naked as the day he was born, shivering timidly where he's sitting on the table, and the doctor smiles.

"We'll just have to examine him and make sure there's nothing wrong with him," he explains, "but I'm sure your son is perfectly healthy. Shall we see?"

They both get up, the doctor rounding up his desk to join Stiles by the table, and Stiles feels his face heat up when the man immediately puts his hands on him, stroking his neck and shoulders with warm palms.

"I can't wear gloves with omegas," explains the doctor. "They are always more prone to stress when they can't feel skin."

His broad hands skim over Stiles’ flat little chest, and Stiles can't help letting out a tiny gasp as the doctor suddenly pinches one nipple. The man only smiles encouragingly and starts lightly rolling the nipple between his fingers, not stopping until it’s pink and erect like a tight little rosebud and Stiles' skin is flushed all the way to his stomach.

"See, your son already exhibits a truly beautiful response to sexual stimuli, that's an excellent thing..."

Stiles can't look at his dad, but even without seeing him he can smell the musky scent of his arousal wafting through the air, and he whimpers when the doctor finally lets his nipple go with one last flick.

"Indeed, truly beautiful," he repeats, and Stiles has to hold himself back not to cover his now raw, tender chest with his arms. "I think you should be able to start milking him in the next year, if you're so inclined."

Stiles flushes violently as his head is invaded with vivid pictures of his dad milking him, his large, muscled body bent over his son’s tiny chest to suck at one bloated nipple, the hungry slurping of his lips too loud in the room, his satisfied groans as the rich, creamy omega milk floods his tongue--

His dad seems to like the idea as well, for there's a distinctive tent in his pants, and Stiles casts his eyes down, looking at his knees.

"Yeah, we'll see," John says gruffly.

The doctor moves on from Stiles' nipples to his stomach and then to his tiny cocklet, lying limply between his thighs; his warm fingers gently wrap around it, lightly squeezing the soft, pale flesh.

"Such a gorgeous little cocklet,” the doctor says. “It's never been touched, I assume?"

The sheriff shakes his head.

"Always forbid him to touch it... they say it's bad for omegas."

The doctor nods sternly, still carefully fondling Stiles' tiny prick.

"That's true, touching their penises can lead omegas to be less responsive to anal penetration, and even sometimes less fertile."

The doctor smiles at Stiles.

"You hear that?" he coos. "You've been a very good boy, listening to your daddy and not playing with your pretty little baby cock."

Stiles blushes timidly, feeling just a little proud, and the doctor spreads a palm on his back, warm and reassuring.

"Now get on your knees, Stiles, we've got to check your little hole."

Stiles feels his heart beat a little faster but he does as he's told, turning carefully to settle on his knees and elbows, back arched to help the doctor access his ass; he can feel the air brushing his hole, the tight muscles jumping against the cool assault, but the position feels weirdly _right_ , and all of a sudden Stiles’ body feels all soft and gooey, and he’s relaxed and not even nervous anymore.

"Wow," the doctor exclaims. "Your son really is a natural, Sheriff… look at how he instinctively knew how to present himself like a perfect little omega."

"Yeah, that's--" the Sheriff starts, voice strangled. "That's very good, Stiles."

Stiles closes his eyes, breathing fast and blood rushing through his ears, and then the doctor slips a lubed finger past his entrance; Stiles lets out a surprised moan at the strange feeling, but his hips still rock back, trying to take more inside.

"Hmmm, that's a lot of slick," the doctor notes, and sure enough, Stiles can feel the wet squelching the man's fingers make as they slide in and out of him. "I'm not sure I even needed lube here."

“Is that—bad?” the Sheriff asks carefully.

The doctor takes a few seconds to answer, his finger crooking inside Stiles and tugging lightly at his rim, and when he does respond his voice is all distant and distracted.

“I—no, of course not, it’s a very good thing,” he says slowly. “The slick is only easing the way, it just shows that he’s ready to take a cock.”

He adds another finger, slowly scissoring them inside of Stiles, and Stiles can't help but moan, tilting his hips higher, thighs flexing to roll his pelvis on the doctor’s hand.

“Look how much he likes it, Sheriff--and I haven’t even touched his prostate yet,” the man says in a musing tone.

Stiles can hear the heady scent of his arousal mix with the Sheriff’s in the air, and that makes him all hot and uncomfortable.

"I--god, Sheriff, you may have to knot him during his first heat," the doctor says, and Stiles can feel his hole working around the man's digit, clenching and unclenching, "or hire a professional to do it... that's not a hole that will be contended with a knotted dildo."

The doctor adds one more finger, the three of them a delicious stretch that sends a shiver down Stiles' spine, and the delightful sensation almost makes him miss his dad's question.

"And that’s… okay, right?" the Sheriff asks, tone clearly tinged with worry.

"What? Oh yes, absolutely!" the doctor immediately says. "Your son has a grade-A hole, that's all. See how quick he was ready to take three fingers? And I'm willing to bet my next paycheck that if we get him tested his estrogen levels will be off the charts as well..."

Stiles is almost lost to pleasure, his insides feeling golden and warm like a tiny sun, and the next words of the man only reach his brain through a haze of intense ecstasy.

"I'd say he'll probably get pregnant quite quickly, and quite often. Even if you are careful, with that much eagerness and fertility, birth control won't do much... I hope you like kids."

And with these words he brushes something inside of Stiles, and that’s when Stiles loses it; all of a sudden there are fireworks bursting behind his eyelids, and his whole body lights up, brain fuzzy with intense pleasure and hole clenching on the doctor's fingers.

"Holy shit," he hears someone say from far away.

Things are blurry after that; the wonderful fingers slip out of him, leaving his ass warm and tingling with pleasure, and then someone hands him a glass of water that he gulps down greedily... he's guided back into his clothes by strong, sure hands, and when he comes back to his senses he's on his father's lap, curled up against the firm, familiar chest.

"--never seen such a reaction to simple fingering, Sheriff,” the doctor is saying, and the words are rushed and fast like he’s excited. “Your son is really unique, he's gonna need some solid knot for his first heat, someone who can really give him what he needs... in fact, I'd advise looking into potential heatmates immediately, at least if you don't intend to knot him yourself."

Stiles buries his face in his father's neck, inhales the familiar, woody scent.

"I will look into it," the Sheriff says, and his words rumble through his chest.

"Of course," adds the doctor as they go to the door, "it is a bit unorthodox, but for a case like this one..." he trails down, eyes fixed upon Stiles' spent body. "Here's my card. I would be delighted to help your son through his first heat."

The Sheriff takes the card, nods.

"I'll think about it."

From what Stiles can see, the doctor really wants to say something else, but they're already leaving the room, and he's too comfortable in his father's arms to say anything.

"You did good, son," his dad says quietly. "Now we're going home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was unbeta'd, and English still isn't my first language, so if you saw any mistake or have any advice for me, don't be shy and drop me a comment... ;)
> 
> I might write another chapter, so subscribe if by any chance you want more and would like to be notified when and if I publish it.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still do not condone this kind of behavior in real life. 
> 
> Still unbeta'd, so if you see any mistake, please tell me. ;)

John knows what he should do.

He knows he’s supposed to take Stiles, fuck him and claim him as his own, mark him and breed him and make him his new omega, he knows he has to do it, but John can’t.

Not when all he sees when Stiles looks at him, his big doe-eyes wide and innocent… is his dead wife, and her own golden, soulful gaze.

And he knows it wouldn’t be wrong, he does! Society is all but supporting to widowed alphas, understanding their biological need to mate again to the closest available kin of their mate… even when sometimes, that DNA-sharing relation happens to be their own kid. It’s just biology, right?

But it doesn’t feel right. Or rather it does, way too much, and John hates himself for it, hates himself for wanting Stiles, his freaking _nine year old son,_ for wanting to bend him over the nearest horizontal surface to pound his sweet little cunt stupid, when his wife (God rest her soul) hasn’t even been dead for a year.

But he isn’t supposed to feel like that, according to society. He isn’t supposed to feel like bedding his son would be like cheating on his wife (would she have wanted that for him, for them?), and so he just doesn’t say anything.

Keeps quiet when people worry about Stiles, offer their help, their advice, their opinion.

Tries not to growl and rip out throats when they propose instead their services, their participation, their _knots_ (who _does_ that?), eyes already gleaming in arousal, and John tries not to think about some stranger balls deep in his son’s creamy pussy, hips jerking as they pump him full of come…

John doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want any of that; what he wants is for it to go back to the way it was, when Claudia was still alive and no tragic parental death was triggering Stiles’ heat and they all lived like one tiny, happy family.

Well, we can’t all get what we want.

 

*

 

“That's it, son,” John says gently. “You're doing great.”

Stiles moans, eyes screwed shut in pleasure, incapable of talking through the short pants he makes as he fucks himself on his dad's fingers.

He's gorgeous like this, flushed pink all the way to his stomach, his lean body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, the slim muscles of his little thighs straining as his hips work on his dad's lap, but John doesn't let himself want.

He can't want.

“You're such a good boy, Stiles, you're doing so good for me,” he coos, tone low and soothing. “Do you want another finger?”

Stiles nods wordlessly, his pink, wet, _obscene_ lips parted on tiny, needy sobs, and John works a fourth finger alongside the others in his son's dripping hole, knuckles sliding against knuckles past the slick-slippery entrance.

Stiles is already so stretched, wide and open and oh so ready, ready for a cock, ready for a knot, ready to be bred and pupped like the fertile, ripe little omega he is... but John knows that won't happen tonight, that can't happen, never mind the fat bulge that's been pushing against the fly of his jeans for the past half-hour--he just can't do that to Stiles.

So he pushes his fingers further, crooks them better, and he watches as Stiles' breathing hitches and goes erratic when John finds his prostate, when he fondles the soft little bump of nerves, hypnotized by the way his perfect, perfect son is rolling his pelvis back on his father's hand, keening little _aah_ s between bitten-red lips...

A fresh wave of omega want hits him and he closes his eyes for a second, imagines giving in, flipping Stiles over and slamming him on his cock, hard and unforgiving and natural--

But he's got a job to do, and he can't get distracted right now. He may be a pervert for wanting his son so badly, but that can't mean he can't be a good father--a good alpha.

He owes it to Claudia.

“Do you want more, Stiles, baby?” he asks in his softest voice. “Do you want bigger?”

Stiles is barely conscious right now, high on pleasure and pheromones, but he still manages to beg for more, so sweet and so lovely, and John's hand is trembling when he reaches for the toy.

“Don't worry, son. I know what you need.”

He aligns the tip of the dildo with Stiles' wet entrance, and slowly pushes in, replacing his fingers with hard silicone; Stiles begins to pant, his breathing going shallow and ragged as he is slowly filled.

It is extremely strange, John realizes, and disturbingly frustrating, to push a fake cock inside his son when his own, very real member is painfully hard inside his jeans, pulsing against the seam of his fly as if begging to be let free...

But John's doing that for Stiles, for his son, and it seems like the plan has worked; at least for now, Stiles hasn't realized what's filling him up isn't a real alpha cock, and his slick hole swallows every thick inch so greedily it's like he was born for it.

Which, well, technically he was, but John doesn't like to think of his son as a wanton baby-machine (even when said son is taking an eleven-by-2,5-inch dildo like a champ), so he tries to think of something else.

And it isn't easy, because now Stiles is moaning like a fucking _whore_ , all breathy moans and desperate sobs, and every single cell in John's body wants to know what he would sound like with a real alpha cock up his sweet little virgin ass, ramming his insides and breeding him so good, so _dee_ \--

John shakes himself.

“Is that good, Stiles?” he asks, and even he can hear how broken his voice sounds. “Does that feel good?”

Stiles nods feverishly and John swallows.

He still has a few hours of this.

He’s not sure he can do it.

 

*

 

When it's over, when Stiles' heat has finally broken and he is splayed out on his father’s bed, spent and fucked-out, John can't get out of the room fast enough.

He's got his pants open before he's even closed the door to the bathroom, and the groan he lets out when he can finally, finally close a hand around his cock is downright animalistic.

He jerks off roughly, hand still slippery with Stiles’ slick, nose still pulsing with sweet, sweet omega scent, brain filled with images of his nine-year-old son, writhing and panting on his lap, and John may be a honest man and a decent father, but he can't help picturing just how differently that would have gone if he'd just said _fuck it_  and plowed his son through his heat like everyone expects him to...

God, it would have been so good.

He would have slid in so slow... yeah, he would have fucking _savored_ it, the tight velvet heat of his son's virgin cunt, the snug feel of that tiny body opening around him. 

He would have taken his time filling him up, inch after inch of rock-hard alpha cock sliding through that sweet slick, and Stiles would have liked it--loved it, no doubt.

He would have moaned and keened, and he would have gotten all glassy-eyed and pleasure-drunk, small baby hands gripping John's strong shoulder, and he would have begged for more.

And John would have given it to him, he thinks as he twists his fingers around his dripping cockhead; he would have fucked him harder and faster, pounding that tight, sweet little pussy so hard Stiles would have seen _stars._

His hand is tugging faster on his cock now, hard and slick, and he can feel the dull ache of his knot, pulsing with need at the base of his erection.

If only he could have pushed it inside Stiles... good Lord, his son's cunt would have felt like heaven around his knot, John's ready to bet on that. 

His mom used to love it, John remembers, and the sudden pang of grief is like a stab in his chest; she was a wild one, Claudia, always knew what she wanted. 

Stiles would probably be just the same, his mom's big doe-eyes widening beautifully at John as he begged for his dad's come, filthy pleas tumbling out of that pretty, pretty mouth, and John would kiss him and breed him and give him _everything…_

John groans, mental images of his son and his wife mixing up in his head, and the guilt and the grief are unbearable but he still muffles a cry, spilling into his fist and coming harder than he has in years...

When the lights fade behind his eyelids and he can regain his breath, he is slumped against the wall, knees buckling so hard he ends up sliding down the wall until he’s a crumpled mess on the tiled floor.

 _God_ , he thinks, and looks at the mess he made all over his stomach, the come and slick mixing on his skin.

The next few years aren’t gonna be easy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking maybe one more chapter after that, so feel free to tell me if you'd want to read more.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read carefully the added tags before reading any further, and know that this contains shota incest. Well, I don't know the exact term, but the Sheriff fucks his son Stiles, who's very young, so, there.  
> There is no non-con tag because in this a/b/o context it is considered normal to do it, plus Stiles wants it very, very much, but please, do tell me if I missed any tag you feel is necessary!
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so any mistake is mine (you can still point me in the right direction if you see one though XP).
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

 

"We need to talk about your son."

John casts a curious look towards Stiles, but the boy is looking down, cheeks scarlet.

"Yes?"

"Well, is he—" 

The teacher coughs, looking embarrassed and like she'd want to be anywhere but here.

"Is he satisfied? At home?"

John frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, today in class, he..."

The woman lowers her voice.

"He _presented_ during recess. Just dropped his pants and presented to the Mahealani boy, right in the middle of the playing area!" She shakes her head. "Thankfully I got there before anything serious happened, but I was wondering... is he getting everything he needs at home?"

John takes a deep breath, knuckles white where they're gripping his knees.

"I... I take care of him, yes."

The teacher seems only a little bit relieved, worry still creasing the corners of her eyes.

"You know, if you ever want it, our staff would be delighted to help you fulfill Stiles' needs," she assures kindly. "Mr Harris already takes care of little Jackson when his father is away, I'm sure he wouldn't mind handling Stiles as well..."

John, just for a second, lets himself imagine some teacher bending his sweet little Stiles over a desk and pounding the lights out of him, and his vision goes red.

"I don't—that won't be necessary," he replies evenly.

"As you wish, Sheriff," the teacher nods. "But I certainly hope you will work something out with your son so that kind of— _situation_ doesn't happen again."

John blinks.

"Of course."

 

*

 

"What was that about, Stiles?" he says as soon as they're inside the house, door closed behind them. "You're begging for cock at school now?"

"I didn't... I'm sorry, daddy," Stiles answers, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and god, John isn't strong enough to resist that perfect little face…

And he resents that.

"Did you just drop to all fours and presented like a bitch in heat?" he says, deliberately insulting, and Stiles visibly flinches at the sudden outburst of voice. "That's not how I raised you, son!"

"I swear I didn't mean to," Stiles explains, high voice tight with something like shame. "It's just... he smelled so _good_!"

John falls back onto the couch, pinches the bridge of his nose in a gesture way too familiar to him by now.

"Why did you do it, son? Don't I take care of you?" he asks. "Don't I do everything in my power to make you happy?"

Stiles’ eyes drop to the floor, his lips mumbling something John can't hear.

"What was that, Stiles?"

Stiles looks back up, big eyes dark and sad.

"I said, 'not everything'."

John frowns.

"Stiles, don't go there."

"But it's true, daddy!" Stiles cries, and John can already see that this is the result of months and months of secret frustration. "You never fuck me! I’ve got to settle for fingers and plastic knots and I… I need more, okay, I'm sorry! I need _more_."

"We talked about this, Stiles," John says coolly.

"Yeah, we did, and you said you would _never_ mate me properly, wouldn't even _fuck_ me properly, but why?" he sobs, and dear God, he is crying now, fat shiny tears rolling down his plump, red cheeks. "Why won't you just fuck me? Everybody does it! Ethan only has to look a bit horny and Harris will stop the class right then and there and bend him over his desk! Coach says he hates Greenberg but we all know who fucked the guy when Greenberg got his first heat during lacrosse camp!"

John pinches the bridge of his nose again.

"Those are not—we talked about this, the situation is different—"

"I know, dad," Stiles spits out bitterly. "You can't fuck me because you're the Sheriff, because somehow you think people wouldn’t be okay with it. But Jackson's _dad_ is an attorney and he still fucks him in the fucking _school parking lot_ , just pulls him on his lap and pounds him in front of everybody, and no one cares! So why can't you, daddy? Why can't you just take care of me?"

And John hates it, hates that Stiles is right and using these awful grown-up words definitely not belonging in his baby boy's mouth, but there are tears wetting Stiles' delicate face, and John's insides are twisting in guilt and anger.

"Is it because I'm not—is it because you don't think I'm pretty?" Stiles suddenly, and his face goes all pale and tight at the words.

"Stop it, you know that's not the problem."

Stiles goes quiet for a few seconds, his expression dark and full of bitter want, and it breaks John's heart to see him so upset when he's still so young.

"Then is it… is it because of her?"

John growls in warning.

"Stiles, you don't—"

"It is, isn’t it!" Stiles shouts, and John can feel shame and irritation running through his veins, making his eyes redden and his cock stir in his jeans. "You never talk about it but it’s _true,_ you never stopped wanting her and now you won’t fuck me because you’re so afraid you’ll _like it_ …"

Stiles’ apologetic behavior from earlier is all but forgotten as he steps forward, practically sitting on his dad’s lap, so close John can feel his body heat, can hear the slight tremors in his voice, the hitches in his breath.

"I bet you're hard right now, daddy," Stiles declares hotly, and suddenly there's a palm pressed against John's crotch, against the already half-hard cock there.

"Stop that, Stiles. Take your hand off," John orders, but Stiles ignores him, his amber eyes shining with excitement and fear as he slowly squeezes the hard flesh.

"I bet if I can just make you come, show you how good I can be, good like _her_ , you'll want me then..."

He starts rubbing the long, hard shaft of his father's erection through his pants.

"Or maybe I could suck you off," Stiles muses. "Take your thick alpha cock into my mouth and gag around it as you come down my throat, show you how better I can be at this than some old, _dead_ —"

"SHUT UP," John roars, and before he realizes it they're toppling on the floor and he's on Stiles' back, pinning his son down with all this weight, his raging hard-on nestled between the boy's pert asscheeks.

"Don’t you talk about your mother like that, boy," he growls, low and menacing into Stiles’ ear. "You think you want it, huh? You think you want a big daddy cock up your tight, ripe little baby cunt, and you think that'll make you happy?"

"Yes yes yes daddy, daddy please," Stiles only says, and John can't see his face but Stiles is rolling his hips into his father's, rubbing his ass against the hard erection there, and his young, lithe body feels so fucking _good_ trapped underneath John. "Daddy please, I want it so bad, please fuck me, _daddy_..."

And John, John is tired of being the good guy here, tired of holding himself back, tired of pretending he doesn't want to breed his son's sweet little cunt.

Stiles wants it? He's gonna get it.

"Okay, Stiles," John says, and with a swift gesture he's got Stiles' pants and underwear down, his hand seeming disproportionately huge where it strokes the soft skin of the boy's ass. "I'll fuck you, since you want it so much."

Stiles whimpers when John shoves a finger past the entrance, moans unashamedly as his father probes the wet, wet heat with a rough digit.

"That’s what you want, huh, boy? You're so wet, boy, so wet for your daddy," he groans, and his cock is hard and heavy when he opens his fly. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk, baby boy."

"Yessss please," Stiles hisses, canting his hips higher when John pushes his fat red cock in the warm space between the omega's perky little ass cheeks, sliding easily trough his own precum and an impressive amount of slick, and _god,_ his son is such a slut.

"You're gagging for it, aren't you, boy?" John laughs, and Stiles moans again, back arching to better show his ass, every bit the filthy temptation he always was to begin with. "You're dying to get my cock inside you, want to get fucked by the same cock that fucked your mother..."

John can’t believe the words that are passing his lips but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters but Stiles and how he wants him, and he spreads the cheeks, admires in passing the way the pale skin reddens under his palms, and really looks at Stiles' hole... 

And it is so lovely; pale pink, fluttering greedily like a whore's mouth begging for a kiss, all open and shiny with slick and precum, and John just can't hold back anymore.

He flips Stiles over and manhandles him on his back, spreading the boy's pale, slim thighs for him to settle between.

“I want to see you, my little baby slut,” he grunts. “I want to see your face when I breed your sweet little pussy.”

Stiles’ pupils visibly dilate when John nudges the soft, pink entrance with the head of his cock.

"You wanted it like a grown-up, wanted to get fucked and bred by your daddy? Well, here it comes," he announces.

With one hard, powerful thrust he's in, and _fuck_.

It's like coming home. 

Stiles is everywhere around him, clenching on John's cock, his tight hot walls hugging every inch of his father's cock, squeezing him, milking him, and he makes these _noises_ , these fucking keens and moans like he's a cheap whore getting bred in an alleyway, and John goes fucking _wild_.

His thrusts go faster, harder, and soon he's pounding Stiles' sweet little ass like there's no tomorrow, ramming that ripe slut cunt like he's a drilling machine.

"Is this what you wanted, Stiles?" he pants. "Is this what you were hoping for? For me to wreck to tight little omega cunt with my big alpha cock?"

Stiles gasps and his hole clenches around his father, his flat stomach jumping in time with his heaving breaths.

"Y-Yes, please, daddy, I— _please_..."

"Do you also want my knot? You're such a slut, my own little baby whore, maybe you want me to knot you as well? Lock myself inside of you and come all the way in your ripe, pretty little pussy?"

Stiles moans and John can feel a drop of sweat rolling down his temple.

"Do you want that, Stiles? Do you want me to fill you up with my alpha come, make you all full and sloppy?"

"Yes, daddy," Stiles pants, and his eyes are slightly crossed from the merciless hitting of his prostate. "Please give it to me, _make me yours_..."

John leans in, licks at his son's damp neck, teases the flesh with a sharp fang.

"I'm gonna come so hard inside you, baby boy. I'm gonna fuck you full of my pups, make you my pretty little pregnant whore, all round with my babies..."

John's hips are pounding as fast as humanly possible, pushing all the way through his son’s soft, plush insides, making Stiles gasp and moan every time his father bottoms out.

"The doctor said you were gonna get pregnant very fast, remember? In no time you'll be knocked up, Stiles, and you'll be walking around at school full of my come and my pups, your fat baby tits leaking milk everywhere, and everyone will know you're _mine_..."

"Yes, yes, daddy, yours, always yours!"

John can feel his knot growing bigger and bigger, stretching the tight walls of Stiles' warm dripping cunt, catching sharply at the rim every time he pulls back... until suddenly it's caught, trapped snug inside his baby boy's ripe little pussy, and John is going mad with how good, how _right_ this feels, and he can’t believe he fought it for so long.

He comes harder than ever before, shooting loads of alpha come deep into the tightness of his son's fresh cunt, and before he can even think about it he’s got sharp, vengeful teeth sunk into his boy’s shoulder, and Stiles is howling as he is, finally, properly marked.

John almost collapses on Stiles afterwards, at the last moment gathering up the tiny body in his arms so that Stiles ends up splayed out on his father's chest, fat knot still buried inside his overstretched, twitching hole.

"Am I yours now, daddy?" Stiles asks, and he sounds exhausted but definitely content. "Am I really yours?"

John can feel his inner alpha growl satisfyingly, happy and finally satisfied after claiming their pretty bitch, and he smiles.

"You were always mine, baby."

And Stiles smiles, sleepy and sated, as they fall asleep like that, John locked deep inside his pretty slutty son, huge cock still pulsing thick alpha come in that ripe, greedy baby cunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I wasn't planning to write anything more after this chapter, but I enjoyed writing it so freaking much that I'm seriously thinking about continuing this... in the mean time I'm still putting this down as complete, because I don't know when a hypothetical sequel would be written, but please tell me if you'd be interested in reading more!
> 
> Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!
> 
> EDIT: Oh, my God. More than a thousand kudos. I... guys, you just made my year, I swear. I had no idea you would like this story this much. Ummm. I promise I'll try to write more. But thank you SO MUCH for your appreciation. I love you. ^^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty short, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> As always, check the new tags to avoid a nasty surprise. ^^
> 
> Enjoy!

"God. You're so gorgeous like this."

Stiles looks up at him from where he's splayed out on the bed, and every single bit of him is a sight John isn't sure he can handle... his long, slim legs are hugged by thin, white stockings, held high on his thighs with a pink and white garter belt, and the fluffy, girlish lace gives all sorts of twisted ideas to John.

The omega's tiny cock is--was encased in a lovely, almost see-through little pair of panties, but they now lay discarded on the floor, all but destroyed in John's haste to get to his son's hole... hole that is now properly uncovered -- as it should always be, John thinks ruefully --, pink and pretty and perfect and John needs it around his knot like _yesterday_.

"Looking so fucking beautiful, baby," he says, and Stiles' dark eyes follow the movement of his fingers as he opens his belt. "So fucking ripe and needy, just for me."

Stiles moans a little, his sticky-red, puffy lips opening on a tiny, broken sound as his legs spread even wider, his wet cunt winking at his father.

"Are you ready for me, baby girl?" he asks in a low, sultry voice as he creeps closer and closer. "Are you ready for your daddy?"

Stiles can only nod, his clumpy, mascara-smeared eyelashes sweeping on his rosy cheeks, and John feels his cock twitch in his hand.

"You look so fucking debauched like this, my precious little omega. Are you going to be good for me, my sweet slut? Will you open up for your daddy's come?"

He slides two fingers inside the boy's hole, pleased to find it already slick and wet, and Stiles squirms on his hand, hips twisting as he tries to fuck himself on John's fingers.

"Yeah that's it, whore," he says, hot satisfaction darkening his voice. "Take what I give you, take it all like the slut you are."

Stiles moans and keens and John keeps adding fingers, pulling and rubbing at the omega's sensitive rim, watching it stretch wide and pink around his digits.

"Were you waiting for that all day? Were you dreaming about it in class? Your daddy opening you up on his fingers, stretching you open and wet till you're gaping for his cock?"

John is caressing Stiles' prostate now, rubbing it back and forth, watching his son sob pitifully at the overstimulation.

"I bet you could come just from my fingers, baby. Bet I could make you cry out with just a tiny flick of my hand."

Stiles looks so ruined like this, utterly ravaged and broken, and John loves the sound he makes when he suddenly comes, spilling white-hot on his soft little stomach.

"You're such a slut," John says fondly. "You live to be filled with cock, don't you? You're the perfect omega bitch, can't stand to be empty."

Stiles is still trying to regain his breath after his orgasm when John roughly folds him in two and, without waiting another second, _finally_ pushes inside him, the fat head of his cock sucked inside the tiny pink hole without resistance, and the rest soon following.

"Ugh, yeah," John groans when he's buried as deep as he can go, his fat, aching balls pressed up against his son's smooth, round ass. "Your cunt is so good, baby doll. So wet and warm, just for me."

He starts fucking in earnest, watching Stiles mewl and moan like a shameless whore as he stuffs him full, his daddy's thick huge cock disappearing into the gaping wet hole of his breeding cunt...

"I'm gonna fill you so good, omega. Gonna make you so big and fat, all round with my babies."

He pushes Stiles' legs on the side, watching transfixed how his slender little body rolls weakly until he's on his flank, thighs pressed together like a shy virgin girl, and John can see everything; how his tight little butt bounces, firm cheeks parting oh-so-slightly with every thrust of his dad's cock, how his flat stomach flutters, soft and nervous, how his skinny legs lie there tired and unable to move like he's just a lifeless fuckdoll for his dad to use, how his whole body jostles under John, tiny and too young and so fucking perfect.

"You're gonna look so good, bursting with my pups. You'll barely be able to move, you'll be so big. You'll just lie there all day, fat and happy and perfect while I take care of you... you're gonna be such a good little wife," John says, and he can feel his orgasm building burning hot in his gut.

It's still as amazing as the first time he did this, coming inside Stiles, feeling the tight squeeze of the boy's inner walls around his dick as it twitches and shoots, feeling the silky insides jump and clench to welcome yet another load of come...

Stiles shivers and John groans, thrusting three more times before his knot expands, and he flops down on his side, gathering Stiles' flushed back to his own sweaty chest and getting comfortable for the next half hour…

After all, they'll need their rest before the next round.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was unbeta'd, so tell me if you saw any mistake and I'll fix it.
> 
> I'm still planning to write more, so stay tuned. ;)
> 
> And don't forget, kudos and comments are the bomb! ^^


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